


Blood & Honey

by mikethemechanic



Category: One Direction (Band), To Be So Lonely - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gang Violence, Prince Harry Styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikethemechanic/pseuds/mikethemechanic
Summary: "She'd always wondered what stories meant by melting in a kiss, now she fully understood, dissolving into Harrys lips."Unfortunately There is no Happy Ending... Only Death
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Two Birds - No Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Duplicity](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/693970) by CCClare. 



As Townes’ eyes open she feels her limbs flex in shock. There is a liquid in them, around her entire body too. Tubes run up each nostril and all that meets her skin is the warm glass that surrounds. There is binding around them and some continue to strangle her neck. Without a conscious thought, a choice, her body does what any must to survive. Every muscle is stronger than it should ever be and there is no mental restraint on the force she can use. Snapped bones are preferable to death. In this way her captors have underestimated her strength. The liquid rushes out of the newly shattered glass and she steps out, bindings in place but their anchor points free.

She wants to stand but for the moment her legs have given way to gravity, shaky, weak. The retching goes on for so long, she looses track of time and then she realizes what the stench is. This isn't water at all, it's a preservative of some kind. She blinks, blurriness fading, surroundings more crisp. The coldness of the air is more apparent, stealing the warmth given to her by the foul concoction that has swept over the grey floor. She wants to use all her senses, get a feel for whatever this is, but the foul odor dominates the air and the chill freezes her skin and the little brain power she can muster.

In that dark room there were shapes in monochrome, of course the daylight could bring brilliant fuchsia or deepest scarlet, but for now it could be a scene from a black and white movie. Townes has seen darkness before, the kind that makes the streets look like an old fashioned photograph, everything a shade of grey. This isn't like that. This is the darkness that robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralyzing fear. In this darkness she now sits, muscles cramped and unable to move. She only knows her eyes are still there because she can feel herself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs she has no current use for. She can't hear anything either. That should bring her heart rate down below the level of “rabbit in a snare” but it doesn't. 

She can feel the people watching… they always are.

By her genes Townes is a predator, she has the front facing eyes and brain enough to hunt, but she feels like prey in this utter black. The dawn is many hours away and until that precious time she can only wait. Moving makes noise, it's bad enough she still has to breath. But, as much as she hates to admit, Townes wants to see tomorrow enough to make her hold this position for as long as it takes. Not making it means not continuing the legacy for her father and that is something she would never, willingly do. Abandoning isn't her thing.

The metal around her wrists is sharp, sheen, and slowly tightening. It cuts into her skin with no more mercy than a butchers knife, leaving red marks that circulate her wrists, significantly matching all the others. Ironic. 

Hours pass which feel almost like days, but she doesn’t keep track, there is simply no point. Townes is trapped. By now, she can hear the deep voice that cuts through the silence just as the handcuffs had done with her wrists, but she is not shocked, she doesn’t turn either, she remains calm. The old man that stood before her had a fringe of grey-white hair around his balding, mottled scalp. His face was wizened and his back slightly hunched. With each movement there was the creak of old, evil bones. He had the resigned look of one who knows that, at his age life, has stopped giving and only takes away. Townes has known him far too long for him to not feel a bit guilty. 

“Townes.” She does not reply... good. It wasn’t a question awaiting a response, there was a hint of acknowledgment behind his tone and that was all she needed for her to know exactly where they stood. “I see You’ve forgotten another lesson:” he sits down beside her and smiles, pulling out a blade faster than her eyes could watch, flicking it open and holding it against her neck with no greater mercy. “Never turn your back until you know your enemy is dead.”

“I don’t like to waste time on my enemies… you of all people should know that,” Townes smiles. She refuses to show signs of distress. After all, she could not show something she simply didn’t feel. 

Her captor seized the knife in his right hand and pushed her face ever so gently with his left, causing a small cascade of blood flowing down her neck, only stopping once it reached the floor. The wound stung, her face tensed and before he could hesitate, she kicked him away, using the back of her heel to dig further into his sharp ribcage until she could feel each bone. Then with one swift motion, twisted her foot and watched the man fall. 

With the fall of the shadowy figure that stood before her, someone reveals themselves. The boy stood in the corner, legs trembling, so obviously scare, it could be classified as painful. His big boots made a rhythmical noise against the causeway when his leg bounced, solid and regular like a soldier. His face was stern, yet hiding his peace as he swung the gun from his shoulder. Smooth metal glimmered. Callused fingers wiped its surface, feeling the cold. He stood, everything else calm, no sudden movements. His muscular upper-body stretched backwards and then suddenly sprung forward as he helped his likely boss to a standing. 

“Agile… good.” The old man crept closer and Townes watched as his hand glided down from her face to her stomach. With one quick motion he snatched her shirt and revealed the pale, muscular stomach, she often kept hidden. “Toned as well, aren’t we lucky?” The knife had made another entrance and was now, once again, being dragged against her cold skin. Only, this time he didn't stop at the surface, no, he kept going until she bled. A whimper soon escaped her dry, shallow, lips. He smiled. 

After all... it was just what he was after.

Surrounded by four white walls, there was nothing else to do but stare at them. To look at the paint that had started to chip off as time passed, or gouged by other prisoners - anything to pass time, slowly going mad, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare. 

The prison cell was barely six feet by four. The walls were the same thick grey stone as the dwellings of the region, but instead of a wide window with a flower box there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass. In the summer the fresher air was a relief, helping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage but in the cold seasons it let in a wicked draft and reduced the temperature to near freezing. It was no brighter inside than the gathering gloom of dusk, even at midday. The bed was a plank of wood on legs, there was no mattress, no cushioning and only one thin blanket. It was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured inmates.

Townes was trying not to stare at her nose but she kept finding her eyes had diverted to it. One moment they were obediently on her red-rimmed eyes and the next they were rested on the bloody mess that had been a perfectly ordinary nose only hours before. So ordinary in fact, that she could not recall what it had looked like. Every muscle has seized up. Her body is struggling to recover, to repair the damage. Unable to move with any grace, her movements are jerky. Blood coated Townes’s fingers like caramel over an apple, only brilliant red instead of soft golden browns. Her eyes watched each finger move, entranced by the new color of her skin. It felt no different from wet mud but it wasn't.

They had beaten her to a pulp.

As she corners herself further and further into the brick wall, she's sees him. The stranger. Standing before her once again. Only this time he seems comfortable, hanging one arm from the bar as he softly opens the cell door, the other accompanied with a wash cloth. He had that tousled dark brown hair, ones of favorite book characters and knights from fairytales, thick and lustrous, bouncing as he walked toward the beaten girl. His appearance alone was seductive. The man's rugged features were alluring. He was tall. Taller than the average man, yet looked so small sitting down next to her. 

His slender fingers pressed into the skin of her forearms, she flinched. He tried again, this time slowly, softer than before. Now the cloth in his hand would come to use. 

Townes is watching him but appearing not too, her heart is hammering, but she keeps her gait casual with no hint of hesitation. “Townes,” he knows her name. Only for a second, was there were some mercy behind his stone cold gaze. A flash of humanism before returning to Evil, “I’m Sorry… I tried.” Everything came rushing back.


	2. Guns and Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the past... All these chapters (Up until the last) will be memories that have already happened

In that frozen second between stand off and fighting Townes can see their eyes flick from her to Darwin. Their faces are unreadable, no fear, no invitational smirk. She is banking on them making the mistake she predicted they would years ago in the cool of the old bank, and they do. In that instant they fly at Darwin, ignoring Townes. He is the one protecting "The Princess," she has no reason being there. They expect it to be five on one, over in a bloody flash and then they go back to their quarry. Not to kill her, but to have her do their dirty work, she's young and strong after all.

But things don't go their way, not at all. In seconds Darwin has taken two and Townes three. The snow stains darkly with the flow from the corpses, no butchery, just expertly sliced jugulars. Townes draws her gun, still impassive, her training holding up despite this being her first kill. There is no pleasure in his face, as Darwin never expected there to be, and tonight there will be tears.

Battles were all the two knew, related by blood, and trained like siblings. They were prepared for things like this, rodeos with guns.

Again Townes' agile movement was far too slow. Six pairs of rough hands tried to seize him. Her right shot out. With a little gurgle, an attendant in uniform staggered backward to crumple in the sawdust. A ring-master, leaping like a panther, landed on her back. Dropping abruptly, Townes executed a somersault, shook herself free and rose only to butt his head into the stomach of a fat clown. In seconds they found themselves finished, people lying on the floor surrounded them, the lucky ones aching with pain, the other, dead.

Darwin was the first to run, Townes followed shortly behind, hoping her long legs could hold her weight for just a little longer before finally giving out. Stumbling into a dark alley way, she gasped for air and found the wall, the only thing stopping her from falling. A sheen of sweat covered Darwins back the first few minutes of hard play, glistening in the afternoon sun. The way it highlights the contour of muscle reminds Townes of what a powerhouse he could be. He's been exhaustively trained to perform at his peak physically and mentally, it shows.

It's eight thirty, Party starts at nine. Townes not being on time is going to upset Ruth and without her blessing she can kiss her ambitions to lead a new division goodbye, but now is no time for Townes to complain. From behind there is a sudden blast from a siren and a police cruiser appears next to them, the red and blue lights flashing brightly in the gathering gloom of the summer evening. "Shit." Townes pulls herself and does the best to wipe the sweat that gathers around her neck, Darwin has come to a complete stop and waits for the officer to get out and make his approach, flashlight in hand.

"Good evening, Officer," The officer is not one to smile, but they don't expect him too. "What would be the trouble?"

Some say there are good cops and bad. But Townes would say that's an oversimplification. They can be honest, courageous, corrupt, devious, malicious, altruistic, cunning or stupid. And that's just her short list. Their father was a cop, and he was all of those things. Not all at once of course. But the right blend of circumstances could bring out any one of those things in him. He was like a chameleon, he blended in with those around him. People say he was easily lead as a kid, and by best guess, so was this guy.

"You don't seem to know anything about the incident over there... now do you?"

They did, "No officer... not at all."

\-----

Sitting in the dining room, Townes often found her leg bouncing under the linen tablecloth. It was a grand space, to say the least. The huge mahogany table took up most of the vast space the dark, romantic room offered, left without a tablecloth and daring guests to ruin the perfectly varnished shine with their unworthy fingerprints. Two tall, silver candelabras commanded attention from the center of the table, holding smooth white candles whose wax never dripped. Down the row of many seats and expensive dish sets, sits the scariest thing of all, her mother.

Elizabeth was the leader, a natural ruler over the Cavelette family. Her porcelain skin was ashen, almost anemic; a cold sweat glistened on her forehead and her recessed cheeks; the moss of her eyes had turned into a leaf that was desperately trying to cling onto the last bit of its chlorophyll, its life. She had hair so black against skin so white and it made a contrast that only served to make the woman look all the more ghostly, all the more haunting; her lips that were once pink and soft, were now chapped and bleeding. She looked tired, sick. But after all, they all were.

"Tired, Mother?"

"Yes, most definitely... However, I wouldn't be if I had normal, decent children."

"I'm sorry." Darwins voice is hoarse, as well as Townes. Both cousins are too tired for this, yet Townes does not give in.

She leans forward. Townes is frightened her mother might puncture the table, gripping her fork so tight with no more mercy than if she were to throw it at her own children. "You should have ended them. One pull of a trigger, is that so much to ask?"

"Yes. We shouldn't be fighting, we are humans, not feral beasts." Townes spits, the taste of food no longer lingering in her mouth. 

"Really? Last time I checked you two thought differently."

Townes was quick with her words, no surprise really, she had been fighting this same argument since she was a kid. "Negative actions create negative chaos, and negative chaos is destructive, Mother. Positive actions create positive chaos, and positive chaos is constructive. When we look at the history of war and peace we see these simple truths at the heart of the matter. I'm not surprised all of these outcomes are because of your petty ruling."

Elizabeth is done with this conversation, notifying the table as she leaves, only stopping to get in the last words, "Making foes of friends, and potential friends, is the art of a moron. You are a Cavalette, not a moron, killing runs in your blood, as does mine and your brother. The Monteques are nothing but evil and destructive, we must finish them sooner or later. I trust that when you get behind the gun... You won't hesitate."


	3. Shakespeares Theory

The festival was always a place of unrestrained joy. The costumes lit up the summer's day, a riot of color to rival any gardener's paradise. Music filled the air, festive beats lifted the spirits and made the people want to move, jump and sing. It was a time to celebrate being alive, celebrate the wonders of creation and be one with the community. The air tasted so heavenly with the chefs alongside the parade, every delicious thing ready to be shared with friends. Townes couldn’t help but feel drawn to it, her nose and sense of smell the only directors.

She felt a pair of arms wrap around her shoulders, a soft side hug and a usual presence. As she turns around she finds a friend, a close one. The girl stood with a hip jutted to one side, her right arm draped across her slender body, clasping the elbow opposite. Her head lolled down to one shoulder casting her bobbed hair onto the faded Prince t-shirt that was two sizes too big. It hung so low that her shorts only just peeked below the dirty hem, a fringe of denim cut-offs. “Good morrow my dear Sire.” In attempts at doing a poor Shakespeare impression, Ruth bowes. She topples over, resting her hand against Townes shoulder as a crutch, “Lovely to find you here.” It didn't take a scientist to know she wasn’t herself.

The music begins to rise and in a split second, Ruth is dancing. Approaching Townes with vast excitement as she pulls her onto the dance floor and slips a single note into her back pocket, “Well, you must dance with me,” She insists. Only until she catches the look of Townes’ eye, does she freeze. “What?”

“I’m not one for dancing,” a furrow of Ruths neatly trimmed brows leads her on and a frown awakens her inner Shakespeare, “You have shoes with nimble soles, I have a sole of lead.”

The Impressions seem to continue throughout Ruths vocabulary and Townes cannot help but feel impressed, “You are a Lover, borrow cupids wings and soar with them above a common vow.” Ruth giggles, the smell of rum and cigarettes seems to linger.

“Under loves heavy burden do I sink.”

“Oh come on my bachelorette, you seem so down?”

Within second Townes has a comeback, just as grand as the first and she keeps with Ruths poor comedy. “Is love a tender thing? It is simply to rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorns.”

“If love is rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking you and beat love down.”

With that, Ruth has won, her shakespeare is to advanced and now the only way to satisfy the drunk girl is to dance with her.

The girls continued their dance, and to the old pedagogue every movement was full of poetry. They advanced, retreated, pirouetted, their arms waving from side to side above their heads, their heads swaying, their garments fluttering, their veils hiding their features, yet seeming to show glimpses of dark, flashing eyes beyond. When Ruth stumbles, Townes laughs. Only until Ruth Pulls something out of her pocket does Townes stop, freezing at the sheer sight of that dreadful something.

In the calloused hands of the careless girl lies a small white pill, illegal perhaps, but that doesn't stop her, not at all. “No… No way, your-you are crazy if you even think-”

Her hot breathe punctures Townes’ throat and that was when she realized what had actually caused this outwards spike, but before she could act, Ruth had laid the pill perfectly on Townes tongue and snapped closed her sheen jaw. “Just dwell on it princess.”

\-----

Townes is clubbing like this is her last night on Earth, but that's just the way her mind manages to avoid the hangover to come. The music moves her like a puppet on strings, her head mashing so hard her brain is in shut down mode. There's so much sweat on her skin and not all of it's hers. The strobe masks so many of her movements, every clap of her hands like it's on pause at different moments. Tomorrow they'll be hell to pay but tonight the alcohol keeps on flowing in like it's on IV drip. There's love in the air, all hyped up and ready to give everyone a good time. Ruth weaves through the guys and girls like a pro, her sly smile wider than the golden gates; God, did Townes loath that girl.

The party has seemed to grow in the past few minutes, people crowding around her and barricading through the doors faster than she had initially planned on. When she looks around everything is blurred, but she still knows where she dances, she always does. The mansion loomed proudly behind creaky iron gates, flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in crimson. It was indeed Elizabethan, with wooden panels along the corridors, ornate chandeliers, and oil paintings of old bearded men in tunics and ruffs. The stairs led down into a tall galleried room with a rug spread out over flagstones and a fireplace big enough to park a car in. A house rich people never seemed to have enough of, but she was finished as soon as she escaped.

Cold water seeps into her shirt as she dips her face into the granite fountain, stealing the heat from her chest just as fast as the wind steals from her face. Townes’ face is soaked, the drops coming together to run into her eyes and drip from her chin. That was enough for her to sober up to a decent extent, sitting at the edge and flinching once the cold ceramic sides reach her thighs.

Behind her she feels another shoulder touch, but not from someone she knows, there is no smell of whiskey or drugs. At first she is frightened, watching as the mysterious stranger ponders before deciding to sit. He is handsome, so very handsome. The man is somewhat too tall for his build; were he a few inches shorter he would be all the more handsome for it. It was as if he stopped growing only to be stretched on one of those medieval racks a half-foot more. He meets my gaze not with the shyness of ones she knows, but with a blunt refusal to avert his gaze first. Then there becomes a battle with their glances, presumably the loser would have to look away. Townes lost.

Once she noticed her state, Townes flushed, the water droplets falling beneath her and forming a small puddle. The man did not seem to care, quickly patting himself down and striking with joy when he finds what he is looking for. He gestures toward the cloth in his hand and she doesn't take it at first, but he tries until she finally gives in.

She caught the look that flashed through his features, sympathetic. In the midnight hue of the room, Townes could see Willow's eyes shimmer. They were a shade of green that reflected the grass in springtime and they made that damp cell feel like nature was still with them, like there was still hope.

“Harry?” Someones voice punctures the silence and before she could turn, the stranger has left. Harry, yes, that was his name.

Townes’ voice was hoarse and quiet as she spoke, “Did my heart love ‘till now? For swear at sight, for I never saw true beauty ‘till this night.”

The journey was set as she glided down the hallway, her drapes long behind her.


	4. To Dance With a Stranger

She runs, feet kissing the land. Perhaps a little while ago Townes would have balked at idea of running so far and fast, now she relish's the prospect. Against the dark night sky all she could see was the crumbling walls that were nothing more than a ghostly silhouette of some previous existence. The wind whistled through the trees bringing with it the laughter of children who once lived there and the caring call of a mother letting them know dinner was ready. The closer she crept the brighter her surroundings would get until she reached the entrance.

The door was solid metal. Nothing was going to budge it. The surface was flat and shiny like the outside of a stainless steel refrigerator. There was no handle, no lock, no hinges, nothing to get a grip on. The top and bottom, even the sides, lay so utterly flush with the frame that there was no hope of jimmying it open even if she had had a crowbar, but Townes had nothing of the sort. All she had was the Swiss army knife she always carried and a packet of chewing gum. Perhaps there was another entrance.

Townes circled the area until all that was left was the small shuttered door leading into the kitchen, it was her last option. With one mighty push, Townes landed herself in the presence of the enemy's house. The Kitchen was run by what looks to be an ex-army cook who loved bleach. Even the aroma of the mediocre food was overpowered by the scent of it and without a generous application of ketchup you could taste it too. Townes glided through the plates and dishes simultaneously floating over and beside her line of vision. The drugs from before had worn off, the floor had stopped swaying, yet it wouldn't of made any difference. There was still no sight of the mysterious stranger from before and Townes wouldn't stop until she found him.

No one has caught her yet, of course they haven't, she was nothing short of innocent.

She finds herself in what looks to be a ballroom... fun. The dancers move like water transformed by music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, painting a picture sound alone can never achieve. Townes is hiding in the corner, afraid, whether it was from being caught or the stone faces of the dancers, it didn't matter. She knew At the end of the night the dance floor would be like an abused chess board. On it's black and white squares would lay spilled drinks and broken glass, but now, it was the epitome of happiness and sex. In her opinion The dance floor added to the charm of The Ale House.

In moments a security guard is striding over the hardwood floors, each footfall marked with a crunch. His weapon is holstered but his face is still serious. Normally this would be where he takes her identification and kicks her out, either dragging Townes by her hair or if she's lucky, letting her walk away. He doesn't do that, instead he doddles right by her and in seconds he is halfway across the room. Townes feels herself loosen and she can finally breath, that is until another person whispers into her ear.

The strong scent of cologne fills her nostrils and once again, Townes cannot breath. It was a sexy smell, no doubt. "Looking for someone?" His breath is warm, tickling her neck until she decides to turn around, faced with an open palm and a sly smile. "Dance with me, darling."

Townes' celestial eyes shone behind the mask as she placed her delicate hand in his. In response, Harry cocooned his hand on her waist and whisked her onto the ballroom floor. They turned and twirled as if they were professionals. With each spin the brunette would lean his head closer and closer until their foreheads collided and their deep breathing entangled. He must know once he kisses her neck her resistance will crumble. After just a few delicate touches of his warm lips her hands will start to do his bidding. They will fall down his back as her head swims, all previous thoughts stopped in their tracks. He has done this before, unless of course, he is just that charismatic.

"Harry?" Townes could recognize the voice and by the way Harry's ears perked, he did too.

They stop by the elevator, hand in hand until Harry decides to rest his calloused fingers against her cheek. It's as if everyone is watching, perhaps they were, yet neither of the two could care. His very smell was flooding the poor girls senses as she was pulled into an elevator, going up was now the only destination. Harry kissed her once again and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.

"Harry?" Another call, yet it was faint, falling away as the elevator doors shut.

the lift grinded to a halt as the floor was quickly reached, before them awaited a person of sheer importance. She stepped slowly from the staircase, letting the light touch her face as if it were the sun that was to appreciate her presence. Harry definitely remembered this old hag. And if you think 'old hag' was a bit of a harsh term, the look on his face was more than willing to argue.

"Harry!" He froze and Townes backed away, trying her best not to anger anyone, but she knew she had gone too far, "Your father is awaiting your presence, you should not be fooling around with someone from the other side... especially not a Capulette!" With one swift motion the lady had taken him away from her, never to be seen again that night.

That was when it hit her... He was a Monteque.


	5. Chapter 5

The leaves turned golden weeks ago and still, she goes to the outdoor pool. There is no getting in slowly. The only way is to dive in and let the cold water surround Townes all at once, hoping the heat from her muscles will be enough to keep the shivering at bay. The chlorinated soup is cold enough to make her lips blue even with a non-stop front crawl. She pulls herself onto the side, limbs shaking. The season for swimming with the sun on her face is over. The dim lights flickered like an old burning candle. The buzz of the neon strips accompanied the hum of the slowly dying fan. The vapor of the intoxicating chlorine embedded itself on her nostrils and all she could do was cocoon herself in the nearest towel.

Quickly realizing she wasn't alone, the sound of knocking accompanied her. To the window, she went. Horrified, she saw a broken window, the glass surrounding the break-in. That was when she felt a hand on her shoulder. For perhaps a split second her grief was suspended, the surprise protecting her until it shattered just like the glass. I guess you could call it shock, but to her, they're the same thing for the first fraction of a second -an inability to compute.

One moment Townes is rushing forward, eyes on the window ahead and face showing her boyish exuberance. The next she is flying in a superman pose yet her expression is one of shock and horror. Her left foot should have extended to take her weight, instead, it is caught on between the other. She hits the water sending a plume of water skyward. Next is another splash, notifying that she is not alone anymore.

Her first reaction, to scream. "Help... God help me anyone, Hel-" Another calloused hand wraps around her, this time over her mouth, muffling any noises she planned on making.

Harry steps from the shadows and appears behind her, stealing her breath and the heat from her skin. Suddenly Townes' defenses are just paper, a paper that is being soaked by the rapidly falling water drops. "You have to be very quiet darling... I'm not really supposed to be here."

He placed his hands behind his head in defense as she stole him under the lights. "This is incredibly risky, you do realize that now, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am," His lips brush hers. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate, and demanding. She wants to pull away before she loses herself but she can’t seem to…In this minty moment, her senses have been seduced and she can no longer think straight.

“Your name?”

She answers the question quickly, not seeking to waste more time, but he must have other motives. "Townes," he repeated through a whisper, slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them.

They hid, quaking and sweating with fear as the security boots creaked the tiled floor beside the couple. With one swift motion, harry had hidden under the cold blue water, hanging onto Townes' leg in fear of floating. Townes shot up and stared into the guard's eyes, determined not to look away first. She was certain that he knew she was trying to hide something, but still, she was determined to fool him. He contorted his lips into an awkward, toothy smile, but her cheeks were not so compromising. With the feeling of nails slowly gripping into her thigh, did she decide to gesture toward the door.

The guard turned to leave and just as quickly, did Harry break the waters service gasping for air. Another push into the dark corner and he decided to avert his gaze, "If they see you they will murder you."

"It's dark outside, I can hide. I'd choose love if that meant death as well... If it meant I got to meet you again."

"I am a Capulette and you are a Monteque... we don't know each other, we can't know each other."

The left side of his faint red lip tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god-like face; casting a spell of lust to eyes that dare look his way. "I don't believe that truly matters, my dear."

Without hesitation, they both slowly moved in. Their lips finally united together, her plump, velvety lips compelling against his slimmer, warm ones, dancing around and soon bonding together. Epiphany and elation percolated into their veins and soon the entire system as he continued to press his lips more impenetrably and rougher onto Townes' lips. His insistent mouth was parting her trembling movements, sending wild tremors along her nerves, inflicting sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. Then, she kissed him back, the kiss getting deeper, deeper than all the galaxies in the universe. Her vanilla lips imprinting themselves on Harry's like a footprint in the snow, forging a sense of exoticism and roguery. No one has ever kissed her like this. In fact, nobody had ever kissed her. She'd always wondered what stories meant by melting in a kiss, now she fully understood, dissolving into Harry's lips.


	6. Chapter 6

The shed became her special place for writing, somewhere her imagination could run wild, encouraged by the rain and wind outside. For that reason, it was a sort of gateway into the vibrant world of the garden, a place where the soul could start to breathe anew. The garden shed had been parked on the unused driveway between the house and the fence. For that reason, Aunt Dolly had asked for a door to be installed at each end. 

Townes gazes at the old woman standing before her. At her age, Dolly should have one foot in the grave. Her gait should be wonky with arthritic joints and eyesight failing faster than Townes’ school grades. Were it not for the lines in her face she'd think dolly sixty at the most given her sharp mind and easy motion, but they are so deep and saggy - like the skin no longer has a connection to the skull underneath. In a photograph, you'd clock her as ninety or more, and Townes figured that's where she was. It's her litheness and articulate speech that got her, an echo of youth in someone so old. Sometimes Townes would fight the urge to pull away the mask of age to see the person inside, the girl Dolly was all those years ago. Then Townes would remember she doesn't have to, if she listened to her words and paid attention to her smile, to her eyes, Dolly’s still in there as much as she ever was. 

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Now as Townes watches, she seems to sway, dancing around to the classical music that only seemed to fade. In her hand, a small flower, “Something so small, could be something so poisonous.” 

The sweet, almost sickly, smell of flowers cut through the soft scent of the morning's dewy grass. “Poisonous?”

She stepped slowly from the secluded corner, letting the light touch her face as if it were the sun that was to appreciate her presence. “Yes, my dear, deadly in fact.“ A small tube connected to the outer wall strung around her fragile hands and Townes couldn't help but feel intrigued, “Watch.” With a swift click of her fingers, she had placed the flower gently inside, letting the air force string it down and gravity to finish the job. In seconds, out came a watery substance that did, in fact, look exactly like poison. Her mouth twitched, and Townes was pretty sure she was fighting a smile, “Magnificent.”

12 o'clock. The old church bells rang out into the darkness, sending a flock of pigeons into disarray, cooing and flapping violently away from the aged building. Each slow chime echoed through the cavernous inner hall, reverberating off the ancient stone, bouncing between each red velvet-lined pew and finally laying to rest upon the altar. As Townes’ eyes wandered, so did her soul, stuffed in a box where the only thing left to do was pray.

Townes turned her head skyward, whispering to the wind,

"Lord, help us to learn your ways, your ways that only love. We are grateful for our mother earth, we are humbled by your gift of life, yet I feel only satisfied in his presence. Perhaps this is the love my ancestors vow for, for I know it is frowned upon, but I do not mind, at least not as much as I should. Our God that is Love is the keeper of our souls, The One I Trust to make things right.… Amen.”

A voice penetrates the air and Townes feels her fingers jump and her body flinch, “You have found love… Correct?” no answer, “How would that be wrong my sweet?”

Townes pulled her cloak around her tighter to stave of the keen wind, though spring was coming the bitter wind still blew. She needed to leave.

It was times like this she wished for thicker skin, but the Lord had blessed her with the skin of only paper. Her aunt had followed her, slowly catching up too Townes and ending the speedy recovery she had spent no time planning. Dollys hands looked and felt like worn leather as she snaked one around Townes' arm, spinning her until she faced the wicked witch. “You seem tense,” With that, she ran her palm around Townes’ sweaty forehead, in response, it was swatted away. “Something wrong? I mean whatever is truly bothering you, I’m sure we can-”

“Harry.” Dolly froze, the name so familiar it must’ve tasted bitter on the old woman's tongue.”He's the one- the one in the prayer… Madam.” 

As Gina raised her arm to move back the velvet drape her bangles cascaded further down her arm than they would have only a week ago. She checked, pale, and jaw clenched for the dusk courier. The fear thoughts looped around in Townes’ mind until there was no room for anything else. “Oh.” Dolly wrapped an arm around Townes’ shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in Townes’ stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against her Aunts. Townes sunk into the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture. Her touch made the room warmer somehow. That Hug could never be long enough, “I’m so sorry.”


End file.
